And Oysters Shall Inherit the Earth
by cryptically
Summary: In a world where brick walls don't kill you, villains talk with French accents, and greatcoats deflect lasers, what's a canon sleuth to do? A Sherlockian spoof, with Conan Doyle's Holmes in the 22nd century: part parody, part homage, all comedy.
1. Undone by an Incompetent Villain

Welcome to the 22nd century, a world where brick walls don't kill you, villains talk with French accents, and greatcoats deflect lasers. Sure, it's one strange era, but we love it anyway.

What follows is a Sherlockian's spoof of SH22. Bear in mind, dear reader, that this is done out of fondness for the televison series and the author's own irrational drive toward satire. This tale will follow the series' plot, but will take a while getting from scene to scene because a) the author only has the first four episodes and b) you'd be surprised at how much randomness can be fit in there.

The plot is the same as the show's: a recently resurrected Holmes aids Lestrade to eradicate crime in New London. The twist? He's the original, Conan-Doyle, canon Holmes, complete with sardonic wit, eccentric nature,and Victorian sensiblities. Basically, canon Holmes meets not-so-canon world.

Ready for wackiness, fashion, deduction, and high adventure? Put on your deerstalkers and keep your New Scotland Yard badges on at all times--the game's afoot.

--cy.

* * *

_(Scene opens on a panorama of the Alps, glowing almost purple against the pale sky. Two men leisurely make their way up a trail, while a third follows. )_

**Wat. **_(narrating to himself)_ Thus, Sherlock Holmes and I came to vacation in the Swiss Alps, weary of the criminal element. Holmes, I suspected, had some ultior purpose for visiting the area, no doubt. But, like a loyal friend,I--

**Holm.** Begging your pardon, old boy, but your narrating is beginning to get distracting.

**Wat.** Ah. Terribly sorry, Holmes. _(glances at the surrounding area)_ Are you sure we're taking the right path? I could have sworn that the man said Reichenbach Falls was the other way...

**Holm.** _(to himself, mysteriously)_ Ah, but did the other way have footprints leading out onto it from beneath a ledge? I think not. Clearly something is in motion.

**Wat.** _(unknowingly slipping back to narration)_ I had known Sherlock Holmes long enough to recognize one of his deductive periods. He required nothing but clues, his brilliant mind, and--

**Holm.**_ (with an sigh, though an amicable one, as though he's used to this)_ --silence, preferrably. _(noticing)_ It appears we have a visitor.

_( The visitor in question is an old man, henceforth referred to the the_ MESSENGER. _He wears clothing eerily resembling_ WATSON's: _greenpants with brown shirt and boots. Running at a good clip, he is able to reach the two men without visible difficulty.)_

**Wat.** _(proudly, rather pleased with his choice of dress)_ Well, Holmes, my ability in the art of disguise seems to be improving. I blend right in with the locals.

(HOLMES _appears unconvinced. The_ MESSENGER _takes a quick glance to the detective to check if he's watching and then adjusts his face before speaking a tad over-dramatically.)_

**Mess.** Please sirs,there's been a bout of influenza at the lodge. A fair young lady fears for her life! Please, doctor, you must--

**Wat.** _(heroically)_ Have no fear, my good man. I'm on my way.

( WATSON _proceeds to walk away, yet is still within shouting distance._ _The_ MESSENGER _and_ HOLMES _both seem to be sizing up the other before speaking.)_

**Holm.** _(breaking the silence icily)_ Well, well. Fancy seeing you here.

**Mess. **_(innocently and with a thicker accent)_ I 'ave no idea what you mean, sir. All I wanted was tuhget someun to come down tuh th' lodge to 'elp andDr. Watson was--

**Holm.** Aha! And there you've done yourself in. As per our usual method, Watson and I gave false names at the lodge. Had you paid attention to that, you would have remembered to address him as Dr. Baker, not Dr. Watson.

_(Upon hearing this, the incensed_ MESSENGER _growls and glares at_ HOLMES, _who is smiling mockingly as he explains everything.)_

**Mess. **Damnation!

**Holm. **_(quietly, yet still retaining a hint of triumph)_ No, my dear Moriarty,merely deduction.

_(The_ MESSENGER, _henceforth known as_ MORIARTY, _attempts to remove the mask from his face. Unfortunately, due to the great amount of force he exerts on the material, the mask rips into shreds. Instantly remorseful,_ MORIARTY _looks at the pieces in his hands.)_

**Mori.** Oh, drat! Blast it all! _(forlorn)_ I worked really hard on this one, too. Why is it that I can never take oneoff without destroying it?

**Holm.** _(watches as _MORIARTY_ mourns his ripped mask)_ But...don't you want to hear a detailed explaination of how I knew you'd entered our room at the lodge and how long you were following us?

**Mori.** _(deeply depressed)_ Oh, what's the use of it, Holmes? You know, I know, there's no need for explaination. _(trying to piece the mask back together)_ I'm in no mood for a lengthy sequence of deduction right now. Besides, I was awfully fond of this one...I made it out here, even with the limited resources and everything!

**Holm.** _(disdainfully)_ A true villain would have brought his disguise from his lair.

**Mori.** _(offended, mask forgotten) _I'm a codebreaker, not some petty costumer!

**Holm.** As my so-called greatested adversary, I expected more of you: more challenges, better deceits. _(sigh)_ I suppose I'll have to unearth a new arch-nemesis. Perhaps Irene Alder...

**Mori.** _(infuriated)_ Are you so confident that you can replace me? That shall be your undoing, Holmes!

(HOLMES _and _MORIARTY_ extract a cane and cudgel, respectively. Both proceed to duel, as_ WATSON, _nearing a turn in the path, happens to turn around and see them.)_

**Wat. **_(narrating once more, now that_ HOLMES _hasn't stopped him)_ I chanced to turn around and what did I see? Holmes, locked in mortal combat with Moriarty! Holmes appeared to be winning at first, forcing his attacker back. But, no! Just before going over into the falls, I distinctly heard Holmes say, "Irene would never have been so sloppy!" , though I absolutely cannot fathom why. With that Moriarty lunged at him and plunged the two of them into an icy onslaught of water,a lethal abyss which no man could survive

_( Both men, continuing to criticize each other's criminal and crime-solving methods, fall in seemingly slow motion. The scene then changes to a journal page. The words on the page are blurred and unclear.)_

**Wat.** in the background I was in complete shock when I got back to the lodge. Slowly, I began to realize what I would have to do. Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, and all the Irregulars would have to be notified, there would have to be a memorial service arranged, and most pressingly, I would need to find an alternative means of acquiring finacnes.

_(The page now is clearly visible. It is not a journal's page at all, but rather an exerpt from an adventure novel detailing an encounter with chimps. It has been taped into a larger journal with other such pages.)_

**Wat.** So distraught was I that I began to write on any surface I could find. It was quite a task finding all my notes when it came time to publish this last chronicle, make no mistake. My source of income was gone. I could no longer continue writing about the adventures of my friend and _he_ certainly was not going to be paying the rent at Baker Street in his current condition. My practice had been lagging, and I began to hope that Mrs. Hudson would be kind enough to either give me an extended time to pay next month's dues or that in her grief she might forget.

Without Holmes, though, how would the world function? He had solved their cases, brought unsolved crimes into the light. London would be overrun with criminals, a new age of crime would rise, worse yet, I would go into debt--oh, it was all too horrible to think about.

Yes, things had begun to look very grim. Very grim, indeed.


	2. Enter the Yardie

And now, welcome to the _real_ 22nd century part of the story.

(skip to story if you don't want to read Cyr's random blabbering. If you do want to read it, (I love you) go ahead. 'Tis an majorly long disclaimer/ explaination,sort of...)

A few things to notea) There's a ton of subliminal messages going through in the following scenes, and most of them are good-- like women gaining more jobs/ having better futures. However this is a parody and nothing is sacred in satire. So while I wholeheartedly support women's rights, in future chapters the reader might come acrosscertain lines being parodied (they were too corny to resis--er, some of them were just asking for it) .

b) Abbreviations are random. **R. Wat. **is Robo-Watson, or Robot Watson (whichever you prefer), and **Lest.** is Lestrade. **Mori.** still abbreviates Moriarty because he technically hasn't changed in appearance (nor has Holmes, still denoted **Holm.**). They're not even in this chapter, but I might as well get it out of the way because I'll probably forget

c) T-rating is for swearing, long oaths, and probable oyster madness that the kiddies shouldn't see for fear of sacrificing their poor sanity...but again, that's another chapter.

Thanks for reading!

--cy.

_

* * *

(Scene opens on Big Ben in a much modernzied version of London. Clearly, the time has changed. No longer do horse-drawn carriages populate the streets, instead vehicles hover and soar above the ground fromdestination to destination. Suddenly, a car sweeps past the camera, closely followed by a second one, which appears to have police markings. The latter smashes into a statue of Lord Nelson.) _

**Lest.** Zed! Stupid artifact.

**R. Wat.** _(in a robotic voice)_ Correction needed. Statues have no brains, therefore cannot think, and their mental prowess cannot be ascertained.

**Lest.** Watson, I don't need to hear that right now, okay?

_(The car careens as LESTRADE pulls away from another impending collision. The car she avoided then proceeds to crash into Lord Nelson as well.)_

**Lest.** Another one! Poor guy. Why do people think that they can get away with stuff like this? For crying out loud, it's an _artifact _they're destroying! Don't they ever consider that?

**R. Wat. **Irony detected.

**Lest.** _(offended at lack of courtesy shown the statue) _When you think about it, it's amazing he's still standing with all those people that smash into him every day. If I didn't have to go after Fenwick, I'd give them a digi-ticket for Nelson-bashing.

**R. Wat.** Overload, overload.

**Lest.** Oh, shut up.

**R. Wat.** _(rather miffed)_ Damage report sent.

**Lest.** So, it's mock me first and then report me, huh? Typical. _(on loud speaker) _This is Inspector Lestrade of New Scotland Yard. Slow down.

**Fen.** _(also on loud speaker, but with decidedly French accent) _As if I would, Yardie! Catch me if you can!

_(LESTRADE's car fires a few small lasers at FENWICK's car. Almost immediately, his car falls down.)_

**Lest.**Wow. That was surprisingly not challenging. _(celebrating)_ Try and mock the Yardie now, why don't you?

_(FENWICK's car knocks out lightpost after lightpost as it twirls to a stop.)_

**R. Wat.** _(as one lightpost hits the ground) _Damage report sent. _(another does)_ Damage report sent. _(and another)_ Damage report sent. _(again)_ Damage report sent. _(and one last one)_ Damage report sent.

**Lest.** _(stunned for a moment, then)_ If I didn't know better, I'd swear he enjoys this. All postsnoted and accounted for, Watson?

**R. Wat.** Affirmative.

_(FENWICK climbs out of the car on his hands and knees. The audience sees him appearing as rather grotesque. LESTRADE disembarks and walls up to him, laser gun in hand.)_

**Lest.** And this, children, is why you should never experiment with odd genetic hypothesises on yourself. You'll end up with blue skin, no hair on your head except for the sides, and misshapen eyes by the time you're thirty.

**Fen.** (breaking own into tears) Oh how I wish I'd never done it! My own family refuses to recognize me! I'm a disgrace to my homeland!

**Lest.** Where is your homeland, exactly?

**Fen. **France, _mademoiselle._

**Lest.** But why is your name Fenwick? Why not Rosseau or Carriere or Cartier? Fenwick doesn't sound French at all.

**Fen:** _(hopeless)_ See? My country's already disowned me!

**Lest.** Whatever you are, you're wrecking havoc on English soil on my shift. Follow me.

**Fen.** _(rolling the 'r') _Never!

_(LESTRADE shoots FENWICK with a laser beam from her gun. He struggles against the two green bands which restrain him.)_

**Fen. **Urgh! _Mais non!_ Green is not a good color on me! Orange, inspector, please change it to orange.

**Lest.** Sorry, Fenwick. Half the punishment is being forced to wear oddly colored restraining bands all the way down to the station.

_(Suddenly, FENWICK's car flys up, seemingly of its own accord. As it flys past, the audience gets a brief glimpse of the driver, who appears to be MORIARTY.)_

**Fen. **And there's loyalty for you! I raised him, fed him, taught him everything he knows, and he goes off and abandons me.

**Lest.** _(confused, has not yet identified the face) _Wait, who _was_ that?

**Fen.** You don't know?

**Lest.** He looks familiar...wait! Was he on one of those safe moon-tanning commercials?

**Fen.** _(disgusted)_ No, of course not!

**Lest.** But he looked so tanned...

**Fen. **_(muttering to himself) Zut!_ Added too much acid again...

**Lest. **_(suddenly recognizes the driver)_ My grandfather and his grandfather before him and his great-grandfather's grandfather and his grandfather's--

**Fen.** Get to the point, Yardie.

**Lest. **He made me study that picture until it was engrained in my memory. Until I could never, ever forget that face. The one man that the Lestrade line never was able to defeat_--(dramatic pause)_ Professor James Moriarty!

**Fen.** Give the girl a prize, now she gets it.

**Lest.** _(defensive)_ You can't blame me, though. I never thought he'd look so orange in person.

**Fen.** _(under his breath)_ Drat!

**Lest.** _(roughly handling FENWICK into the police car)_ Alright, in you go.

**Fen.** My master will save me!

**Lest.** You honestly think he's going to show his tangerine complexion around _here_ again? He's probably so embarassed that he drove off to get some concealer. _(considering)_ And I can't say I blame the poor guy. After all these centuries, he's back and has been made a complete fool of.

**Fen.** Laugh now, Yardie. One day, he'll be your worst nightmare!

**Lest.** With a mug like that, he already is. Now get in the car nicely and I won't have to use force. _(turning to the robot)_ Watson.

**R. Wat.** Inspector?

**Lest.** File a report to headquarters. Tell 'em to prep to the crypto, we've got a perp coming in.

_(LESTRADE drives off to the station with R. WATSON and FENWICK in tow. On the way out, sheflies into the other side of Lord Nelson's hat. Cries of "Zed!", "Damage report filed", and "Watch your driving, Yardie!" echo in the background as they drive off and the scene fades out to black.)_


	3. The Science of Body Snatching

(I feel like I should say 'welcome' on this chapter, too)

Next chapter is will most likely be the re-entrance of Holmes (either that or chapter 5...). Some major plot elements start to come into play here, namely Lestrade's "attraction" for Holmes, Fenwick being ...Fenwick, and another thing so very secret and integral to the plot that you're just going to have to find them out for yourself.

I had a lot of fun with this chapter--hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

--cy.

_

* * *

_

_(Camera pans, signalling a change of scene. The audience sees several dome-shaped buildings before the camera zeroes in on the New Scotland Yard office.)_

**Grey**. _(distressed)_ Look at this, Lestrade! Five light poles down, three crashes into Lord Nelson, _and _now you're telling me some orange-faced dead guy is behind it all?

**Lest**. (_nods_) Yes sir, Cheif.

**Grey**. I have news for you, inspector. One: I'm not _that _stupid; two, corpses are not orange; three--

**Lest**. But he _was_ orange, sir.

**Grey**. Then he couldn't have been a corpse.

**Lest**. Exactly.

**Grey**. But Moriarty is dead, so if the orange creature you saw was not dead, it could not therefore have been Moriarty. For it to have been Moriarty and, consequently, dead, it would have had to been pale-ish, not orange. Do you follow me, Lestrade?

**Lest**. Somewhat, sir. He was still orange, though.

**Grey**. _(sighs)_ This is what's flawed with New Scotland Yard, Lestrade. It's the inspectors going around believing they saw things that they didn't see. Trust me, we've already got a feasible hypothesis with the dead man thing. Let's not mess it up, shall we?

**Lest**. Understood, sir. ...If you don't mind me asking, when did you come up with that hypothesis?

**Grey**. Five minutes ago.

**Lest**. Ah.

_(Silence, then )_

**Lest**. Will you explain the rest of it to me?

**Grey**. Oridinarily, I wouldn't share my thoughts with an inferior officer, but...I'll make an exception because you worked on the case.

_(LESTRADE brightens, hoping to gain some insight into GREYSON's no doubt crazy theory. Because of this, she allows the "inferior officer" comment to pass.)_

**Grey**. Clearly, Fenwick was in the passenger side of the craft. That we know from the analysis. The corpse must have been driving.

**Lest**. The corpse, sir?

_(Evidently, this is not what LESTRADE was hoping for. GREYSON continues relentlessly.)_

**Lest**. But I told you that I saw Professor Moriarty...

**Grey**. I don't disagree. But Moriarty's dead. Facts are facts, Lestrade. And dead people can't drive cars. Obviously, Fenwick must have taken the body and allowed it to drive. That explains the exceedingly poor driving and the presence of Moriarty.

**Lest**. Sir, with all due respect, you've got it completely wrong. I--

**Grey**. Nonsense, Lestrade. It's the only logical conclusion we can draw from the evidence. Fenwick's being charged with first-degree body-snatching as well as the minor felony of allowing a minor/ tree/ corpse to operate a motorized craft.

**Lest**. I just don't think that's it. All the Holmes novels I read--

**Grey**. _(annoyed as heck, he's heard this before)_ Lestrade, will you please get a life? Honestly, of all the people on the force, you're the only one who seems to think that some book is going to help you solve crimes. (_gesturing at the many computers around them)_ See? _This _is how we solve our problems. It's the way of the future-- let the machines do the thinking for us. Law enforcement is complicated enough as it is without having to revert back to some Victorian looney--

**Lest**. Sir! I can't just let you insult him. Holmes might have thought my ancestor was an idiot, and in all truth he was, but the later Lestrades in my family grew to realize that Holmes' methods were right! _(smiling to herself)_ In fact, he's the reason I--

**Grey**. (_quietly_) Lestrade, are you aware of exactly how much damage you caused today?

**Lest**. I don't see how this--

**Grey**. Answer the question, inspector.

**Lest**. _(thinking a moment)_ Not exactly, no.

**Grey**. One million credits.

_(LESTRADE is speechless. The amount is somewhere around twice her yearly salary. )_

**Lest**. _(in awe)_ One million...

**Grey. **Yes. _(raising his voice)_ One million credits! So if you value your weekly paycheck for the next five years, you'll go along with my theory. Understood?

**Lest**. What about Fenwick's cryptnotic programing? We've got to find out why it didn't take.

**Grey**. You want to follow that body-stealer? Be my guest. _(a moment)_ Oh, and Lestrade?

**Lest**. (_pausing on her way to the door_) Sir?

**Grey**. (_deadly, and utterly serious_) Touch _nothing _in the lab unless you want to be in debt for eternity.

_(Scene fades to Cryptnosis Lab.)_

**Lest**. I hope you didn't file all those damage reports in my name, Watson.

**R. ****Wat. **The officer on duty is respons--

**Lest**. I take it back. I don't want to know any more. _(to the SCIENTISTS) _What's the prognosis, guys?

**Sci 1**. _(grimly to SCIENTIST 2)_ She used the word "prognosis". She must be a smart one.

**Sci 2**. (_nodding) _We'll have to watch out for her. She could ruin our plans...

**Lest**. (_hasn't heard a word as the SCIENTISTS continue to whisper amongst themselves_) Er, guys?

**Sci 1**. Of course! _(back to normal, speaking to LESTRADE)_ It doesn't look good. Poor guy's got worse skin than anyone living I know.

**Sci 2**. (_inspired) _But was that enough to turn him towards necrophilia?

**Sci 1**. Shh! Don't suggest your hypothesis in the presence of the subject! It might--

**Fen**. Necrophilia!_ Mon Dieu!_ Are all the Yardies so dumb? I'm a geneticist! I cloned him!

**Sci 1**. --influence the results.

**Sci 2**. Denial, plausible excuses, speaking in French, the language of love...I do believe he's just confirmed it.

**Fen**. I CLONED HIM, I TELL YOU!

**Sci 2**. _(dismissing FENWICK's outburst)_ Bah! Cloning! You can't clone a human without taking serious risks. One wrong move and the skin color becomes messed up and they won't look human at all.

**Fen**. (_losing it_) Stop reminding me!

_(The Cryptnotic techs begin to hit FENWICK with a yellow beam and start the process. LESTRADE and WATSON watch.)_

**Lest**. Y'know, you'd think that this being the twenty-second century and all that we'd have figured out a better way to do this without filling a room with massive wires and tube-things.

**R. Wat**. Tube-things is incorrect. The correct jargon is plasmotastic encyclicotubotical robo--

**Lest**. Can it. Memo to Greyson.

**R. ****Wat. **Mailbox full.

**Lest**. Urgh. Well, delete some of those damage reports or something.

**R**. **Wat**. Lack authorization.

**Lest**. This is hopeless anyway. Greyson thinks that Fenwick's spiriting away dead men and if I say anything different I'll lose any hope of survival financially. Great. (_She sits down and sighs)_ This is supposed to be the twenty-second century, land of opportunity and haven of righteousness. Why does this happen still?

**R. ****Wat. **Unable to answer question. Monologue detected.

**Lest**. Thanks a lot for the restoration of my confidence, Watson.

_(Scenes change to 221B Baker Street. Scene starts viewing the side of the apartments, then the sound of breaking glass is heard. Inside, FENWICK runs to the door, clutching something.)_

**Lest**. (Nearing the door) Be careful, Watson. Someone's coming.

_(FENWICK rushes the door, which lands on LESTRADE.)_

**Fen**. Ha! Feel the wrath of _la porte_! _Au revoir_!

**Lest**. _(from beneath door)_ Watson. Some help, if you don't mind.

_(WATSON obligingly lifts the door and carries LESTADE in his arms as the two pursue FENWICK.)_

**Lest**. (_fighting_) Put me down at once! _(proceeds to run after FENWICK to the Underground.)_

**Fen**. Just try and stop me now! Go, my rat minions, go!

**Lest**. Ewww. So not going in there. C'mon, Watson.

**R****. Wat**. Access de-

**Lest**. Watson!

_(Cut to 221B)_

**Lest**. Well, look at this. Broken glass and a shattered display case. None too subtle... (to herself) Thank Zed they didn't take any of _his_ things. Let's see what they left behind...

_(LESTRADE picks through the glass shards for the display card.)_

**R. ****Wat. **Warning! Glass shards are...

**Lest**. Holy Zed! Ouch!

**R****. Wat**. Sharp.

**Lest**. (_sardonically_) Thanks ever so much, Watson. _(something on the card catches her eye)_ Hey, this was Moriarty's mask and disguise at Reichenbach Falls. Wow! Moriarty hardly ever could restrain himself enough to keep his masks intact, making this one a real collector's item. Let's see here: "Records show that Moriarty did indeed carry a second set of masks with him as he journeyed to put an end to Mr. Sherlock Holmes. This creation of a second mask is highly irregular, making this duplicate quite a rarity." _(pause)_ That seems oddly like what I just said.

**R**. **Wat**. Maybe too many visits here on your lunch hours?

**Lest**. _(gives WATSON an evil look, then has an idea)_ Ha! I've got it. Watson, tell me I'm a genius.

**R**. **Wat**. Are you?

**Lest**. (_sigh_) Nevermind. But now I see a motive. Stealing high-value commodities like this mask would lure Greyson and the other braindead inspectors at the Yard into thinking that Fenwick was only after valuable things. (_pause) _Or that he had some sick obsession with Moriarty. But we know that Moriarty makes all the difference.

**R. ****Wat. **Dead or alive?

**Lest**. I'm pretty sure he's alive. ...I really don't want to turn orange when I die... You can't smirk and be dead, right?

**R. ****Wat. **Evidence to the contrary. Pictoral images loading...

**Lest**. _(horrified at what her robot's doing)_ No! They'll think I'm the necrophiliac then! _(this has no effect_) I don't need convincing, Watson! Cease loading, cease loading!

(_Scene changes, again. LESTRADE and WATSON seem to be going to a lot of places this chapter. Now both are finally back where they started, sort of: the New Scotland Yard heeadquarters, Lestrade's office. The desk monitor is on, showing a female TV host.)_

**News**: And in other news, apart from the multiple thefts, burglaries, vandalisms, and other various crimes that have plagued New London...

**Lest**. (_exhausted_) They never give me a break, do they? They just list all my short-comings at the end of the day and force me to participate or else they won't show me the news. I can't relax and veg out in front of the TV like I did when I was little...It's just intro's upon intro's until I say "more, more more!"

_(The TV picks up on this.)_

**News**: And now, a ray of hope for our poor city. Sir Evan Hargreaves recently--

**Lest**. I didn't mean _that_, stupid TV...

**News**: --having broken off connections with an infamous geneticist, has announced the successfull recurrection of dead human cells based off their DNA. This process could signal a brighter age for all the wor--

**Lest**. Hey, that's it! That could be how Moriarty was--_ (she snatches a old volume off her book shelf and flips through the pages)_ Aha! Moriarty was the greatest code-breaker even known. There was only one way to defeat him before, and there's only one way to defeat him now. C'mon, Watson!

_(LESTRADE dashes off out the door, with WATSON close behind.)

* * *

_


End file.
